


Best Left Forgotten

by Calliecatt93



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Coffee, Humor, Implied Drunk Antics, Implied Drunk Making Out, M/M, Morning, Sarge wants to forget everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliecatt93/pseuds/Calliecatt93
Summary: It's morning. Sarge is up, but Simmons is not. He goes to find out why. Written for a Tumblr Prompt.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Comments: 5
Kudos: 69





	Best Left Forgotten

here were three things that Sarge hated above else. First was The Blues and anything related to the disgraceful color. The second was orange, lazyass soldiers named Grif. And the third? Mushrooms. But since he was too man to admit that, he’d say the mornings.

“Blasted hot ball of fiery death…” He grumbled to himself crankily, “Damn thing can’t just stay anywhere that ain’t here… ruining my dreams of utter Blue annihilation…”

He continued grumbling until he realized something. The main room was still dark. Nor was there a coffee mug in his hand yet. That got the sergeant confused. Normally, Simmons was already awake, had his coffee made, and did all of the paperwork that he had volunteered to do.

But the maroon soldier was nowhere in sight. 

“Huh…” 

Sarge thought for a moment. There were only two things that would have kept his usually obedient second-in-command from performing his duties. Either the Blues broke in and kidnapped him for their twisted, Blue plans like the dirty vermin they were. Or if was a Grif-related problem.

It better be the Blues. Cause otherwise…

“Damn, I knew that orange sack of lard would be a bad influence on him one of these days!” He proceeded to stomp down the hall until he was at Grif’s door, proceeding to knock his shotgun into it, “Grif! You good for nothin’, greasy blob! What did you do to Simmons?!”

No answer.

“Fine, we’ll do this the Sarge way then!” He raised his shotgun, ready to slam the butt of it into the door when…

“Ugh… what the fuck are you doing?”

He stopped mid-midway, turning around to see the owner of said room. He was wearing nothing but a T-Shirt and boxers and was currently rubbing at his Simmons-donated eye with a dazed look. He had just walked out of the door across form his own, Simmons’ door

“You! Already figured out I’d be gunnin’ for you, huh? Well too bad it failed!” He lifted the gun again. “I knew you’d corrupt Simmons with your lazy ways sooner or later!”

“…what? He’s in his room right-”

“Ah-ha! You admit it!"

“How the fuck is that a-!”

“Grif, I have dreamt of this moment for oh so long now. But first, I need answers! What were you doin’ in Simmons’ quarters?! Aren’t you satisfied with laying your own with your filth?!”

“Uhhhh…” The orange soldier turned away from him. “I… we, ugh… I-I mean ugh…! Oh, _fuck-”_

The door behind him slid open, causing him to jump. A certain redhead walked out, also in just a shirt and boxers. He was groaning, hand at his head and looking rather groggy.

“Grif? Where the Hell did you go?! Ah shit, how drunk was I last _niiiii_ …. s-sir!!” Simmons shrieked as he stood at attention, “Umm, I… this is… I can _explain_! Ow! Fuck…”

The red-head again clutched at his head. Grif looked at him, then back at Sarge. The older soldier was equally dumbfounded as he saw his second-in-command look at Grif. Around his neck area. His eyes widened as he made some kind of notion to the other, who just looked at him confused…

…then looked back at Sarge, and his hand shot up to try and cover it up.

“Uhhh… you’re dreaming?”

“…what the _fuck_ Grif?!”]

“Hey, I just got up! Cut me some slack!”

Sarge just kept staring. Simmons being this dis-shelved and undressed was one thing. Then there was the fact that the two had been in the same room… seemingly just waking up… Simmons having head pains… his current frantic motions and Grif looking like he had some kind of marks on the pale side of his skin and… _and…_

“…that’s it, I’m going back to bed.” The Sargeant said as he turned away. “After I get my coffee made. Heaven to mercy I’d _kill_ for a coffee right now… literally!”

The two privates watched Sarge until he disappeared down the hall. Grif let out a relieved sigh as his hand dropped… until having to lift it again to cover the back of his head after a certain nerd smacked it.

“Ow! Simmons what the He-?!”

“I _told_ you drinking all that booze was a fucking terrible idea, Grif! Now Sarge knows!”

“How?” Grif asked with a blank look. “He only saw us in our underwear. Not like that’s the first time.”

“Not for you or Donut! And not when we were int he same room! Fuck!” Simmons threw his hands up in frustration. “How the Hell am I going to get Sarge’s respect now?!”

“You mean you _had_ that before?” That earned Grif an even more heated glare. “Besides by the time he gets back up, he’ll have forgotten all about it. Which means we get even more sleep time now. It’s a win-win for us.”

Simmons looked like he wanted to yell some more, but just as he raised a finger, he groaned again. His head dropped to Grif’s shoulder, letting out a muffled aggravated scream. Grif tapped him on the head, which just made him groan more.

“He fucking better.” The red-head mumbled before grabbing Grif’s hand and pulling him back to the room.

“Well if not, who’s bright idea was it to drink down eight cans in a row to prove that he could handle it? And who was the one who wanted to make out after? _Hmm?_ ”

“…I fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, love you too babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> After all the sad stuff I've done recently, it was nice to do something light-hearted, haha~ Was originally written as a prompt on Tumblr. Hope you guys liked it~


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